a ReTeLlInG oF sLeEpInG bEaUtY
by clumsy eloQuence 666
Summary: UNFINISHED needs a better title...a retelling of sleeping beauty MY way. warning: fluff and utter desecration of reality as we know it. sound fun? ::rating subject to change:: no romance YET
1. Dream::Flight

**Dream Flight**

**Part One of a Retelling of Sleeping Beauty**

Rose frowned in her sleep. She was dreaming of that day again; the day it all happened.

_She was alone, desolate, in a carriage. Pink silk cushions did nothing to lessen the bumping and rattling of the carriage. Ornate, white sides kept the sunlight from filtering in, and Rose from looking out. The flowers that were her namesake decorated the outside of the carriage in a celebration of the upcoming marriage; to her, they were a thorny prison. She glanced over at her escort and lady-in-waiting, checking to see that both were fast asleep. _Almost no need to check, _she thought wryly._ That potion I gave them will keep them asleep for days._ She chuckled to herself, thanking Moriah, her teacher, for all that she had learned. Since the day Rose was born, Moriah had acted as mother, teacher, and nursemaid to Rose. Rose's own parents were far to occupied with Royal business to pay attention to her, and therefore never noticed that Rose had the ability to perform magic. Of course, magic was a common thing in Maratahah, Rose's country, but the royal line had never inherited it. Fortunately for Rose, nobody had thought to test her save Moriah, who was a small witch herself._

_Rose sighed with longing. Where she was going, she wouldn't be able to practice magic at all. Her future mother-in-law hated her, and anything she wanted to do would be declared prohibited instantly. Her husband-to-be was no better; he believed that women should be meek, mild-mannered, ninnies who did nothing but embroider and look nice at balls, except for his mother, of course. _Mouse manure!_ thought Rose furiously._ How _dare_ he restrict her capabilities? She was a princess in her own right, and she _would not_ be ordered around by that pompous, stuck-up pig! _The anger washed out of Rose to be replaced by despair. She had tried everything she could think of to get away, but nothing worked. She looked too feminine to run away as a boy, her skin was too flawless to pass as a kitchen maid, and there were too many guards for her to get away without a disguise. Rose curled one delicate and into a fist and pounded it into the cushion. A stirring from one of her maids reminded her of the need to be silent._

_Rose slumped back into the seat. It was hopeless. She would just have to marry Prince What's-his-face, and live out her life in misery. A single tear rolled down her right cheek, creating a ragged path in her white-as-snow skin. Her tapered fingers reached up to brush the tear away, but instead, they found a curling lock of ebony hair. Rose reached up and unpinned the rest of her hair, letting it fall in a dark cascade down her back. She ran her fingers through it, ruffling the carefully brushed tresses. She mustn't give up hope! Her delicate crimson lips pursed in deep thought while her clear blue eyes wandered back to the curtained window. Peeking out through a crack to make sure nobody was looking, she flung back the curtain, reveling in the warmth of the sunlight that burst into the elaborate carriage. Rose propped one daintily-flushed cheek in her hand, watching with longing the Red Kite that soared overhead. Its intelligent eyes flashed in the sunlight, and it swooped closer to the carriage. Rose admired its colorful plumage, spanning from reddish-brown to slate grey. A song that Moriah had once taught her came to mind, and she began to sing._

"Broad blue yonder,

Forever my home,

Send me the wings

On which you do roam.

Take you my spirit,

Keep safe my heart,

Transport my soul to a place far apart

From the evils of men,

The hate of the world.

Show me the haven

Where your wings unfurl."

_Rose's velvety voice spiraled up towards the broad blue horizons, carried by a wind that hadn't been there before. The kite caught the sound with a slight cocking of its head. Intrigued by the sound, it veered closer to the carriage. So close, in fact, that its wings almost brushed the edges. An aura of red light enfolded them both, sending a tingling jolt up Rose's arms. Unconsciously, Rose reached out to touch the bird. For an instant, their eyes met, Rose's a pure blue like the sky above them, and the kite's a molten gold color not unlike that of the sun._

_The instant was over. The kite swooped away with a screech of new-found freedom; Rose fainted in a dead sleep, lost unwittingly in a world of true dreams, to stay there until someone broke her peaceful reverie. Unfortunately for him, whoever it was, Rose had other plans in mind._


	2. Dream::Escape

**Dream Escape**

**Part Two of a Retelling of Sleeping Beauty**

He dreamed of her. At first it was only once in a while, but now it was insistent, often appearing every night for weeks at a time. And every time, it was exactly the same.

_He would walk into the room. It would be in a tall tower, and it smelled of roses every time. There was a small window in the far end of the round little room, allowing sunlight to filter through. The walls were bare of tapestries and artwork, and there was only a threadbare rug on the floor. The bed in the far end of the room was a contrast, with elaborate embroidery on the canopy hangings and bedspread. But every thing was in white. Not a spot of color stained the moth-eaten fabric until he opened the canopy._

_Inside was a sleeping girl, perhaps seventeen years of age, in all her colorful glory. Her midnight hair splayed about her head in a dark halo, showing off her pale skin and delicately-flushed cheeks. Her eyes were closed, of course, but her lashes were long and attractive, and he could only imagine the eyes that hid beneath them._

_Her lips were full and red, her nose small and straight. She was definitely feminine, although her bedding covered most of her body. She was clothed in a simple white, sleeveless nightgown that seemed to be meant for summer._

_He stepped closer, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. He stepped yet again, moving his gaze to her slightly-opened lips as if in a trance. Closer he stepped… ever nearer… bending down... her breath against his face…_

Prince Jerrin woke with a start, pushing his silken coverlet away from him. He reached up to run a hand through his unruly brown curls. He kept them cut short, the contrary to popular fashion in his country. Grey eyes scanned the large room from above a long, straight nose. Tapestries and paintings covered every wall, and a lush carpet reached every corner of the room, hiding the stone floor beneath it. The bed he was laying in was large and lush, fitting for royalty. Large, curtained windows on either side of the bed allowed only a slit of morning light to enter the room.

He had been dreaming about the girl again. _Damn her!_ He thought savagely. He was eighteen, looking for a suitable bride, and much too old to believe in the fairy tales. Yes, that dream was definitely straight out of a fairy tale, and he knew exactly which one: Sleeping Beauty, or, as he liked to call it, The-Girl-Who-is-Stupid-Enough-to-Fall-in-an-Enchanted-Sleep-and-the-Even-Thicker-Fool-Who-Nearly-Kills-Himself-Climbing-Through-Rose-Bushes-to-Get-to-the-Tower-Where-Some-Dotty-Relation-Has-Put-Her-in-Hopes-of-Attracting-Eligible-Princes. Of course, none of the romantics liked that version, but his friends found it rather humorous.

_She was beautiful, though. I wonder who she is._ Jerrin shook the thought out of his head. _Probably some meddling sorceress putting out dreams to attract men to her goddaughter or something equally abhorrent,_ he thought grumpily. _The things women will do to get a husband of higher status. Especially princesses!_ Jerrin grimaced. He dreaded the ball that was to be held that night. He shuddered inwardly at the thought of all those ladies, decked out in all their massive finery, faces positively _caked_ with over-bold cosmetics, and surrounded by suffocating clouds of perfume, all just waiting for a chance to flirt with him.

No, unfortunately, he wasn't flattering himself; they were all going to come looking for the opportunity to present her as eligible to the Crown Prince of Delbar. Jerrin cringed at the prospect of having to marry one of those air-headed, mindless twits. He would swear, the only women with any brains were grown up, married, and had children. He snorted in disgust. It only figures that his generation was the air-headed one, and not his father's. In King Abonrost's time, there had been many wars to keep his people busy. Nowadays, the people had too much time on their hands. Jerrin knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help wishing that something would happen that would give his people a need to be educated and clever. Regrettably, things like that didn't come without a price.

Jerrin sighed, leaning back into his pillow, hands clasped behind his head. He _had_ to get away from it all! He couldn't stand it a moment longer; his parents were suffocating him with all those royal duties. They were well-meaning, but suffocating nonetheless.

Jerrin sat up with a jolt. He knew _exactly_ what to do. He would go on a quest for his dream-girl, probably not find her, return after a year of questing, and claim not being able to marry due to the despair of his heart. The irony of it was laughable, but it was his only way out. In fact, he would leave that very day.

"You WHAT!" Abonrost bellowed. He stared at his son incredulously. "Now, now, dear," Queen Lianne comforted her husband, trying, at the same time, to pull him back into his throne. "Perhaps it's a good idea. After all, were you not saying that you would like Jerrin to find a suitable bride on his own? And a quest is the perfect thing to send our son on."

"Well, I suppose," the king grudgingly admitted.

"And," the queen went on. "If he _is_ unsuccessful, perhaps he will resign himself to the life a prince must lead." Of course, Jerrin had no intention of doing that, but he nodded his head anyway. After all, he _was_ only agreeing to a "perhaps".

Abonrost nodded reluctantly. "Very well, you have my permission to hunt down this dream woman. May I ask when you plan to leave?" Jerrin smiled brightly at his father. "Why, today, of course!" Seeing his father's look of consternation, Jerrin continued quickly. "You see, father, her image haunts me day and night. I must leave as soon as possible, or I will waste away with longing." Jerrin clasped his hands over his heart dramatically. Fortunately for him, both of his parents were romantics, and wouldn't ever think to question his sincerity.

"Very well, I will send for an escort to be ready in an hour."

"No, father," Jerrin said firmly. "I do this alone."

Half an hour later, just after midday, Jerrin left through a side gate near the back of the palace. He led his mount, Devil, a tall black gelding, behind him. Once safely out of range of prying ears, Jerrin mounted and galloped east, towards adventure, freedom, and, though he didn't know it at the time, an answer to his prayers.


	3. Back::and::Forth::and::in::the::Forest

**Back and Forth and In the Forest**

**Part Three of a Retelling of Sleeping Beauty**

Rose sighed in her sleep. She was dreaming of that boy again. It was obnoxious, but she did dream of him occasionally. This one, unlike her other dreams of him, intrigued her.

_Normally he was in a large palace, but today, he was riding. He was mounted on a tall, black horse, trotting it down a dirt road, forest surrounding them on both sides. A playful breeze caught his curly brown hair and whipped it into his face. He was tall and muscular, but he could only have been eighteen or nineteen. He was wearing a cobalt blue, thigh-length tunic over a loose white shirt. Loose brown breeches disappeared into sturdy riding boots that reached mid-calf. A pack was strapped onto the back of the saddle, along with a compact bow and a quiver of about a dozen arrows. A formidable broadsword was strapped to his back, in easy reach of his long arms._

_Suddenly, he reined the horse in, stopping to turn his piercing stare straight at Rose. _

"Oh, bother," she whispered before fading into her next dream.

Jerrin stared at the place where the girl's apparition had been. He rubbed his eyes, then looked again; there was nothing there. After a moment of staring, Jerrin was shaken out of his reverie by Devil shifting impatiently. "Humph. You know what, Devil? Lack of sleep and not enough food will play insane tricks on tour eyes," Jerrin informed his horse. Devil whickered as if in agreement. "C'mon, boy, let's go find a ghost. It'll prove more entertaining then what we're looking for now." With that, Jerrin pointed Devil's nose again east.

"Oh, lookee 'ere, gentlemen, we 'ave a guest. Best be showin' 'im proper courtesy-like." The man grinned, spoting a mouth of rotten, yellow-brown teeth. His two companions were chuckling evilly. "But, o' course, we must be askin' 'im to pay our 'ere lil' fee. Don' be worrien', now, it's really nothin', but us bandeets got to be makin' a livin'." The other men nodded their filthy-bearded heads in agreement.

Jerrin looked around for an escape route. The three men were on foot, and they were only blocking one fork in the road. The other was ominously dark, but he would have to chance it. Though sporting wealthy clothes-no doubt stolen- they were filthy, and Jerrin was quite sure that the three highwaymen wouldn't at all mind soiling their clothes just a bit more with his blood.

Discreetly, he nudged Devil towards the other fork. Before any of the men could notice what he was doing, Jerrin was galloping into the midst of the dark and twisted trees. Hooves pounded on a long-unused path, warped, perverted trees whipped past, their indiscernible limbs reaching out to grab him. In the distance, Jerrin heard one of the men laughing. "Ha! 'E'd a' 'ad a much better fate wiv us, eh mates? There be stories 'bout that forest, an' there be none to tell to children! At leas' wiv us, 'e'd a' died short and peaceful-like." This was greeted with bouts of laughter from the other men, but Jerrin devoutly ignored it; he was here to get away from the cruelties of court life-and life in general-and by the Nine Gods of Fire, get away from life he would!

Three hours later, Jerrin was still riding through the forest. Luckily, there was only one path, so he couldn't very easily get lost, however much the grass had grown in. Jerrin was starting to get tired of the malformed trees. Their black, twisted limbs seemed to be reaching out to him, grabbing at him. Even Devil shied away from them, shaking his head in protest every time the road narrowed. Jerrin felt like protesting too, but he was a prince, after all, and he had to be brave.

"Well, this is better than being robbed and murdered by those bandits back there, at any rate," he confided to his horse. Devil snorted in reply. "Well, it's true," Jerrin retorted defensively.

"We'll see about that," came a sweet voice from behind them. Until then, Jerrin had never been knocked unconscious.

Jerrin awoke to someone pinching his arm.

"Hmmm, a bit on the skinny side, eh Ilzbet?"

"Yes, yes. And haughty, too. Or so say his features. What say you, Theresa?"

"I agree with you both, but that can all be fixed once he meets our Rose. Ooh, look, he's waking up! Best hide the potions, Maegla, lest he get his grubby paws on them!"

Offended at the term "grubby paws", Jerrin started to protest, a mistake on his part.

"I most certainly _do not_ have 'grubby paws', madams, and whoever is Rose, or you three, for that matter?" he demanded. For a moment, they just looked at him, giving him an opportunity to observe them.

All three were swaddled in robes the color of the summer foliage around them. One was young, perhaps in her mid-twenties. A breeze caught her straight brown hair, tossing it carelessly into large blue eyes. Her features were all small, save the eyes, which took up the better part of her face, and she seemed to bear an innocent air about her.

The second one was a middle-aged woman. Her long black hair was streaked with bits of white and gray. Hazel eyes watched him anxiously, waiting for him to move. Her lips were nothing more than a thin line in tanned skin, and her ears bore large gold hoops that stuck out from the curls of her hair. She moved with the careful demeanor of a mother, or perhaps a midwife.

The third woman was ancient by far, her pure white hair falling in wisps about her face. Endlessly dark eyes peered at him from their sunken sockets in pale skin. She had a nose not unlike a large beak, and an extra chin. Nonetheless, her wrinkles seemed to bear the knowledge and wisdom of centuries, if not more. It was her gnarled hand that had pinched his arm, and it was she that spoke for the three of them.

"I am Maegla. That," she pointed at the middle-aged woman. "Is Theresa, and the young one there is Ilzbet. We," she announced proudly. "Are the Sisters of Machali, Goddess of the Forest."

"That's very nice and all," said Jerrin hastily. "But what do you want with me? And where is my horse?" Maegla chuckled. It was more of a wheezing cackle, but it sounded like it was _supposed_ to be a chuckle, or at least Jerrin thought so.

"All in good time, my boy, all in good time. But," she added. "Just to put your mind at ease, Daemon is tethered to a tree nearby. Rather like you, I might say."

It was then that Jerrin noticed the ropes chafing his skin at the wrists and ankles. He was lying in the dirt and leaves next to a tall oak tree. His sword and daggers were conveniently out of sight and reach, and his purse was missing as well.

It took him a moment to realize that Maegla had known his horse's name, but by then, she had scurried off to somewhere he couldn't see.

_Well,_ he thought. _I suppose I'm in something of a predicament now. _Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness drenched him. Yawning, he leaned back into the embrace of tree roots and succumbed to the suffocating folds of sleep.


	4. A::New::Face

**A New Face**

Part Four of a Retelling of Sleeping Beauty 

Again, Jerrin woke to the sounds of voices. Three were familiar from his last awakening, but a fourth voice had been added to the ensemble, a whispery voice that now sounded frustrated.

"It'sss not working on thisss one! Why won't it work on him? It worked on all the othersss!" The voice then became thoughtful. "Perhapsssss…. No, it couldn't be…. Ssssso what is the ssspell didn't work? Ssssstill…. Oh, poor Rosssie if thisss isss him! He ssseemsss ssso arrogant!"

Ilzbet's voice came from behind him. "You mean…. No, it couldn't be! Could it?" Jerrin could almost see Maegla nodding sagely. "It very possibly could. However, Naressa, I disagree; I think it's _him_ we should pity. After all, he may wake her up, but that doesn't mean-"

"Ssssshhhh!" It was the whisper-voice again, Naressa, as Jerrin supposed. "He'sssss awake, foolsssss! Can't you sssee?"

Realizing that his façade was up, Jerrin opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. He sat up and stretched his stiff limbs, noticing happily that his bonds had been removed. Looking around, Jerrin started in surprise. He was sitting in the same clearing, under the same tree, and both Maegla and Ilzbet were there, but Theresa was missing, and in her place was the strangest creature Jerrin had ever seen.

If she had been fully human, she would've been young, perhaps twenty-three. She wore a green peasant gown: a light skirt down to the ankles, allowing for a bit of white petticoat to show at the bottom, and thin, puffed sleeves. Around her midsection was a black corset, much like the court ladies wore, though it looked much less uncomfortable.

What was strange about her was her _feline_ attributes; short ginger hair, streaked with a pale orange every here and there, covered most of her body; little cat ears poked from red-brown tresses that tumbled to her mid-back in wild curls; but most striking of all was her eyes. They were an eerie color somewhere between yellow and green, releasing a startling inner glow from around slit pupils.

"What are you ssstaring at, human?" she demanded once she noticed the direction of his gaze. Jerrin started to stammer a reply before Maegla could interrupt him.

"Dear, I do believe we haven't introduced you." The cat-woman looked taken aback for a moment, then she smiled roguishly, revealing elongated incisors. Performing a little curtsey, she then straightened, flicking her hair over her shoulder with one hand. Jerrin noticed the glint of claws, and gulped.

"Forgive me, milord. I am Naresssa, Guardian of the Foressst. And you are…?" she let the question hang with such innocence that Jerrin started to answer truthfully.

"I am P-" He stopped himself just in time. "Probably nobody of importance to you," he finished weakly. Who knows what these people--harmless as _most_ of them seemed—would do to him if they knew he was royalty?

It was as if Naressa was reading his thoughts, for their was a wicked glint in her eye when she turned casually to her companions and said, "Well, he doesssn't ssseem to be royalty, so he'sss of no ussse to usss. Ssshall I get rid of him for you?" Jerrin gulped again, and this time it was audible, or so the growing smile on Naressa's face told him. Giving in easily, as he had never planned on being threatened, Jerrin spoke hastily.

"No, no. I _am_ royalty! I am Prince Jerrin, First and Only Son of King Abonrost of Harrufle, and-" Jerrin was cut off by peals of hissing laughter.

"Ha- Ha- Harrufle! Oh, it sounds like a sneeze!" Naressa imitated someone sneezing, then proceeded to act out conversation between two people.

"Harrufle!"

"Gazuntight!"

"Thank you. I fear my allergiesss have been kicking in lately."

"Ah, poor you!"

"Yesss, thank you. Uh oh, here comesss another one! Ha…ha…HARRUFLE!" She burst out laughing again, clutching her stomach helplessly. Ilzbet was trying hopelessly to repress a grin, and even Maegla was giggling mirthfully. Jerrin glared at all of them reproachfully. "It's not _that_ bad!" he said defensively.

Naressa nodded vigorously. "Oh yesss it isss-ss-sss!" Her words dissolved back into sniggering.

Annoyed, Jerrin tried to change the subject. "Yes, well, now that you know I'm royalty, what _do_ you want with me? And who is this Rose, or Rosie, or whomever you were talking about? And who are you, for that matter? Not titles or names, but who are you _really_? And where, in names of the Nine Gods of Fire, am I?"

Maegla tutted scornfully. "Tsk. So many questions and so little patience. I think we'd better tell him the story."

Ilzbet looked at her doubtfully. "D'you think? I mean, what if he's not the one? What if Naressa's simply doing something wrong?" she questioned anxiously.

Instead of acting offended as Jerrin would've expected, Naressa looked thoughtful. "Ssshe hasss a point, you know. I haven't done thisss in ssso long, it'sss perfectly posssible that I'm doing _sssomething_ wrong."

Maegla just shook her head. "No-" She shuddered as she glanced Jerrin's way. "He's the one. I can feel it in my bones. Now, to answer your questions dear-" she turned back to Jerrin, this time without the shudder. "I will get to the questions of what we want with you, who our Rose is, and who _we_ are, all in good time. First off, you're in the Dragden Forest, just East of your border, I believe. All the rest must be told in a good order, rather like a story. As a matter of fact, it _is_ rather something of a story." Seeing Jerrin's look of impatience, she hastily continued.

"Anyway, this is Rose's story: Once upon a time…" Maegla's voice took on a soothing tone, and Jerrin sat back to enjoy it.


	5. Rose's::Story

**Rose's Story**

As Told by Maegla Part Five of a Retelling of Sleeping Beauty 

"Once upon a time, not so long ago, but surely before you were born, there lived a king. This king was loved by all his people, for he was just and fair, and so the time came when the people decided their King should take a bride. At first, the King was reluctant to be forced upon a wealthy and powerful noble girl. To ease his mind, the King's loyal councilors searched high and low for a maid who was just as kind and intelligent as the King, and pretty enough to please the people.

"Many women were brought in, but all were rejected. All, that is, save one. Her name was Lady Meliare. The King was dumbstruck by her, as he should've been. Not only was she beautiful, with her long dark hair and great, soulful brown eyes, but she was kind and well mannered. And, to the King's utmost surprise—for, he thought, how could one so fair be intelligent as well—she had been educated by all the great scholars and mathematicians and scientists of the time.

"In turn, Lady Meliare instantly loved the King. He was witty, but not hurtfully so; he had humility and kindness for all his people, but a just and firm hand in all matters. Besides all that, he was handsome, with a magnificent head and beard of golden-red hair and bright blue eyes that crinkled when he laughed.

"And so it was that they were wed. Everybody in the land was invited. And when I say everybody, I mean _everybody_! The King was no fool, and he took care to reach every corner of the kingdom with invitation and courier, no matter how lowly or how unpleasant any person may be. The wedding was a grand celebration, but better yet was the christening of their daughter, Rose, not a year-and-a-half later

"Theresa--still an apprentice--and I were invited as two of the nine Royal Faery Godmothers. We each bestowed a gift on the girl. Some gave her the traditionals. You know: beauty, a lovely singing voice, a good hand with the needle, and whatnot. But some of us thought it better to give her gifts that are more practical. Theresa gave her intelligence and wit; I gave her an aptitude for healing; another faery gave her a green thumb, and yet another gave her a special way with animals.

"Fortunately, some of the gifts backfired. The faery who bestowed her with beauty had not specified exactly how she would look, so instead of becoming one of the many classic, blonde-haired, blue-eyed twits, her hair grew out to be a luscious--albeit unruly-- mane of black curls, and she got her father's bright blue, almond-shaped eyes. She learned how to use her lovely voice to distract the cook whilst she pocketed his cherry tarts.

"Sadly, the girl's beautiful mother died when she was eight. While on his mourning progress through the kingdom, a young noble's daughter caught his eye. She was educated, and she had the classic look to her, with long blonde hair and great blue eyes. Perhaps she wasn't as kind or caring as the former Queen, but she was well-meaning, in her own powder-puff kind of way. What pleased the King most was her liking of his daughter.

"When she found out, Rose didn't throw a temper tantrum as most would expect of one her age and status. She had been raised not to act so spoiled, and besides that, she didn't really see the point of wasting her energy for such nonsense. To be sure, Rose didn't particularly care for the woman, but they got along well enough, and Rose only wanted her father to be happy. As her reward, the new Queen brought scholars, mathematicians, and scientists from every corner of the world to teach her.

"All went well until her seventeenth birthday, when her father announced her betrothal to the Count of an exceptionally wealthy estate. Now, don't be getting the wrong idea, for it was the new Queen's idea. She had thought it a wonderful idea, and had convinced the king as much. Soon, both had come to think of it as a perfectly marvelous solution to the question of what to do with the eligible princess.

"The King, in his aging years, hadn't heard the rumors that reached Rose's ears; they spoke of a deceitful widower, fat and ugly and old, who took many a mistress and cared not for anything save his gold. He was said to horde piles of the stuff whilst his people went hungry. Rose, as unspoiled and fair as she was, positively gagged at the thought of marrying this rich Count.

"So it came about that Rose, for the first time in her life, went into a horrible rage. She ranted and raved on how unfair and cruel her father was being, but the King would have none of it. He insisted that it was for her own good, and that she should be grateful. The very next day, she was put in a carriage and sent off with an entourage that consisted of twenty guards, five ladies-in-waiting, a stable hand, a dozen footmen, two drivers, and exactly fifteen chests of belongings.

"Nobody knows how it happened, but on the third day, Rose was found asleep in her carriage. And this wasn't just any sleep, mind you, it was _enchanted_. At first, only the superstitious believed it for what it was, and everybody else insisted it was just a creative hoax to get out of the marriage. So, despite the warnings, they continued on their journey.

"Five days later, they reached the Count's castle. It was a horrible thing, gloomy and dark, especially with the presence of the sleeping princess. The Count, however, was much worse. He was just as the rumors described him; fat, with greasy dark hair and beady little eyes that never ceased in their quest for treasure to steal. He insisted that the girl be locked in a tower, with food brought up twice a day, and a maid to check every half hour if the princess had woken up. But alas, the food went untouched and Rose never woke from her slumber. Years passed, but, strangely, she didn't age a day.

"Eventually, the maids stopped coming, and the guards forgot what they were guarding. When it came about that the Count died of a heart attack, nobody remembered the sleeping princess, and so the servants and maids and hostlers and cooks all left, one by one, grains of sand slipping from one end of the hourglass to the other. The King died not much later, and his Queen fled from the court where Rose was rightful ruler. The land was divided among the more important courtiers, each of which became the king of his own little patch of land. The castle became overrun with plants of every sort, probably due to Rose's unattended green thumb, as it were.

"Theresa and I were appointed guardians of the castle and its surrounding forest, a task gratefully accepted. Ilzbet is to be our successor until somebody breaks the spell. Naressa is a feline of exceptional powers who came to us offering her help not a year ago. And you, my dear, just might be the one to break the spell. But, that must wait until later. For now, worry not about Rose or anything concerning her. You are free to wander, but we must beg of you not to leave us; Rose needs help from everyone who can provide it."


End file.
